


Off Limits

by KailynBail



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Acceptance, Damaged Character, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, Not perfect, Our own worst enemy is ourselves, People aren't perfect, Saarebas, These two especially, Tried to stick to Lore but there are some deviations, glorious struggle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KailynBail/pseuds/KailynBail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talan likes his space... he likes his coat, his boots... a well balanced dagger, the look of shock on an enemies face when they realize he's a saarebas, and a warm fire. That's... about it. The list of things he doesn't like and won't allow is... a bit longer. Talan's past is one that won't be forgotten, one he won't heal from, one he won't just get over. Ever. There are some things that simply won't go away... and he's accepted that. Waking up with a walking bomb on his hand? Eh? Not his favorite thing. But, it just figures. Meeting Dorian? Not exactly his idea of a good time... at least, it shouldn't be. But because he's him, he can't help himself. The fact that Dorian is a Magister's son? Oh, that just makes it *so much better*. Yeah... he sure knows how to pick 'em.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off Limits Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first things first. PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER. There are some seriously F'd up things that are touched on in this story and I don't want anyone being caught unawares. I don't want to spoil anything so I didn't put a blanket warning out there but please, please note the warnings that I do put at the start of the chapters. Secondly, I openly admit that there is one scene that was totally taken from a movie, seriously... I know, it's shameful, it's horrible, but it was freaking cool and I was like "oh dude, that's so him" so yeah. I know, I'm horrible and I will burn in wherever for all something or other. Thirdly, I haven't edited this yet... so it may change even though it's been posted here already. I just wanted to get this put down. (ALSO* There is Qunlat and Tevene/Latin in this work, I have added translations. The Qunlat was taken from the DA wikia and the Tevene was as well, Latin was from Google Translate. Also... there are a few phrases that I went downright lazy with for Qunlat and totally changed the translation on to make them into what I wanted them to say, this is later in the work and has been noted.  
> I have done artwork to accompany this story but not depicting specific scenes, just in general. So yeah, without further adieu, I introduce... my precious oc Talan Adaar. (Yes, there are many other Adaars named Talan but this one is mine).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off Limits Cover (I finally went ahead and made a cover for the story).

  
[Off Limits Cover](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Off-Limits-Cover-639965062) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  



	2. Perhaps… Chancellor Roderick is right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talan had no idea how these... people... managed to not only get him in the position he woke in but managed to even stay alive this long if they so easily thrust control into the hands of their would-be prisoner. It was the deaf leading the blind as far as he was concerned. At least the Seeker didn't seem totally incompetent even if she was surrounded by many who were. The breach? The mark on his hand? Well... it had to end some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.  
> New: I've decided to start adding an illustration to each chapter. :D

“Cassandra… you know I wouldn’t normally suggest that we… perhaps… remove a threat such as this but—“ Leliana paused in mid-sentence at the look Cassandra gave her. “Okay, I would. But that’s beside the point… this… Qunari is a saarebas. They are dangerous. Perhaps… we shouldn’t press the issue. Perhaps… Chancellor Roderick is right.” Leliana sighed heavily, hating that she was actually agreeing with that man.

  
Cassandra likewise felt the same but her desire for the truth, regardless of her own thoughts on the matter, drove her on. “Leliana, what choice do we have. We must know whatever was done and find out how to… fix this whole thing. Saarebas or not, we must try.” Cassandra jerked the door open and stormed inside, the prisoner a mountain before them… even on his knees, his massive horns crested nearly to her shoulders as she came to circle around him. His head bowed but his breathing steady… he hadn’t looked up at them… and she’d bet her ridiculously distant claim on the Nevarran thrown that he only appeared at rest. She’d never been so close to a Qunari before… but the tales of their stature were actually pretty accurate. Surprising… but she pushed that aside, for her, the pain was still too near. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now…”

  
Talan felt the stone floor beneath his knees… the armored pads warping beneath his weight. His ankles bent under him had thankfully gone numb long ago. He hadn’t bothered to lift his head when he’d come to… how these humans managed to get him into this position was beyond even him… but he knew well that feigning rest was his best option, with the guards that circled him. He could hear five or six… all of them terrified, their swords drawn and pointed at him. He didn’t dare so much as breath heavily, these bas would attack if someone so much as let loose a sneeze. He smelled the dankness of the damp cells around him, the dripping of melting snow echoed throughout, telling him he was underground. He felt the metal digging into his wrists, no doubt they were not made to house one such as himself. He flexed his forearms and felt the pain anew, the edges of the iron making it known that they had indeed cut into his flesh. He cursed inwardly, knowing he could do nothing about it. The door burst open and he heard the woman’s stride but felt her trepidation as she came in, circled around him… she smelled of leather and sweat… and fear. Not uncommon, but her words came out like the edge of a knife and he felt the urge to list away from her but didn’t. Instead… he remained still and silent, saying nothing and giving nothing. His stubborn nature digging its heels in fiercely.

  
Cassandra came around and heaved up his marked hand, the magic flashing violently at being disturbed. “Explain this.” She threw it back down, or rather.. let it fall. It wasn’t difficult to let it do so… the Qunari’s arm felt like it weighed a ton. She was marginally grateful that he hadn’t lashed out… yet. He didn’t appear to be violent, but she knew better than to trust it.

  
Talan just shook his head and snorted, looking to the side and away from this woman who, he hoped, knew what she was doing.

  
Cassandra’s fear and anger had set the fuse and his refusal to speak, his apparent dismissal, lit it. She reached and took hold of one of his horns, the curvature arching upwards, jerking it to the side as she barked out an order. “Answer me, Qunari!”

  
Talan’s eyes widened as he twisted out of her hold sharply, a growl sounding as he bared his teeth, canines that were sharp though not elongated, pinning the woman with a fierce glare. His violet and gold eyes snapping as his magic flared within their vibrant hues. “ _Teth a, ashkost kata, bas_!” The words ripped from him in anger, the warning given as he was on his feet, the bar of steel and shackles both tumbled to the ground in frozen pieces. His brow low as he glared down at her, filling out his armor as the guards surrounding them all panicked. He had her wrist in his hand not a second later, taking a calming breath he threw it away, sending her form stumbling just a bit though to her credit, she regained her footing and drew her weapon quickly. “Never.. do that… again.” He reached up and brushed his hand along his horn where she had grabbed him, as if he were wiping her touch away.

  
Cassandra’s internal alarms went haywire as the Qunari made it very clear that he was only being held captive because he allowed it. Never mind the magic she witnessed in those eyes, the fierceness that was simply his race dumped panic into her. The growl, his teeth, he… was an animal in that moment. She witnessed why so many compared them to dragons… his voice boomed and while she didn’t understand the words, she caught the meaning well enough. When he snatched her hand, she tried to suppress his magic, set the lyrium in his veins aflame but… it didn’t work. She sensed… no lyrium at all… her eyes widened in panic anew but then he released her, tossed her aside… her sword in her hand she heard his repeated warning. She held her hand out to the guards who had finally ceased their bumbling and were ready to attack. She watched as he seemed to… clean… her grasp away. Apparently, she had overstepped some cultural or racial boundary that was… enough to send him into a realm of pissed off that… well… lesson learned.

  
Their discussion went smoother from then on… him being unbound and her with her sword still drawn. Talan allowed it… she seemed more comfortable with it. The other woman, he learned was named Leliana… joined the discussion after witnessing this, Cassandra’s, blunder. He didn’t fault them entirely… few knew of the very personal boundaries that Qunari held, not to mention his own issues. Cassandra explained that everyone on the mountain had died… that he was found, alive. Talan shook his head at that and took a steadying breath. He only hoped that his company had made it out in time… he looked down at his faded hand and glared, his lip curling at the foreign magic. The tear in the sky garnering a likewise reaction… the corresponding fracture of them both bringing him back to his knees, the Seeker’s concern and attention in those moments had him looking at her like she had a third arm.

  
“Each time the breach expands, so does your mark… and it is killing you…” Cassandra stressed. She didn’t know what to think about this Qunari. But she had to admit, thus far he had proven himself to be capable of both great power… and great restraint. No, this was not a mindless beast.

  
Talan just nodded to her. “We’d… better get moving then.” He mumbled as he climbed to his feet, nearly laughing when Cassandra tried to help him.

  
Cassandra noticed that when he wasn’t giving orders or speaking about important matters… he tended to mumble, his voice rumbling out of him barely above a whisper. But his eyes were keen, they flicked around like a bird’s, as if he saw all and missed nothing. As they moved through the valley, they fought demons… and she had been reminded that as a saarebas, he had no use of a staff, and in fact… preferred not to carry one at all. Instead, a low hung set of daggers dotted his hips. Smart… by the time anyone realized he was a mage, it would be too late. “What did you say… back… in the cells?” Cassandra was a Seeker after all… her curiosity often getting the better of her.

  
Talan had just climbed up a snow bank and her question had him blinking a few times as he stared ahead of them. Was she serious? He glanced behind him and saw the openness in her face… great… leave it to him to get stuck with the cat. “It wasn’t very nice.”

  
“I gathered that.” Cassandra followed him up, still getting used to his sheer size.

  
“You really want a lesson in Qunlat now?” Talan stopped and looked down at her, his tone a mix of disbelief and irritation, though his voice was still held low.

 

Cassandra gave him a raised brow look with a nod.

  
Great. “ _Teth a_. It’s.. kind of like saying.. Hey! But… Hey!!” He called the first hey as if he were trying to get someone’s attention but the second was said with a low brow and a deeper tenor, a warning. “It can be both… actually.” He turned away and continued towards the forward camp.

  
Cassandra nodded as she followed. “And the rest?”

  
Talan grumbled under his breath. “ _Ashkost kata_ … means you are seeking death.”

  
Cassandra stumbled a bit and looked after him though he didn’t turn to face her, he kept on going. “Oh…”

  
Talan nodded to nothing. “I told you it wasn’t nice. But you deserved it, grabbing hold of people and shit..” He grumbled the last as they rounded a corner, giving the clear impression that he’d speak no more about it.

  
Cassandra raised a brow at that… um, hello… he’s a prisoner, she’s the jailer. Whatever… they made their way to the valley, further in, met up with Solas and Varric, exchanged introductions, closed a few rifts and met up with Leliana again. Their goal, close the breach. Simple… and Talan went along with it… begrudgingly. But he kept his comments to himself, staying quiet most of the time. But Cassandra didn’t miss how he kept looking to the west.. longingly. He didn’t want to be there. None of them did. But Cassandra did have to hide a smirk when they passed the Chancellor and his threat…

  
“On your head be the consequences, Seeker.” Roderick sneered.

  
Talan narrowed his eyes on this… holy man and as he passed, he couldn’t restrain himself. He dipped his head just so, passing perhaps a bit too close, a snarl, a growl, something that might be considered a bark was delivered and the man jumped… Talan gave a hearty laugh with his head tilted back. Varric couldn’t help but join in… the dwarf already liking the wall of Qunari. He had an attitude… and Varric always enjoyed people with attitudes. Solas, however, grew nervous around the saarebas. Knowing well the source of the creatures people… and their power.

  
They succeeded… sort of. The temple was a wasteland… the rift at the base of the breach proved formidable. And the magic of the mark clashed unexpectedly and violently with Talan’s own, the resulting fracture resulted in the rift being closed but just barely, the breach likewise being only patched. And Talan feeling the full force of the conflict.

  
  


  
[Off Limits Chapter 1](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Off-Limits-Chapter-1-641863781) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe okay, here's a little incite into Talan when he's feeling all snarky. He's such an ass sometimes. But yeah... that's the first thing that came to mind when I saw Roderick in the beginning, later of course, you're like 'd'aw man' but at first... yeah.


	3. I am a saarebas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven was small, cold, but comfortable. It had that lived in feel, a history... the people were humble and tiny. Talan didn't feel bad at all about kicking the smith out of his forge, he needed to feel the metal bend beneath the hammer, to fight the chilled air. It helped. The breach, the pressure, the people... the Harold crap they were throwing at him. He needed to do something he knew, something he was good at. He couldn't inspire people, he couldn't bolster their faith. Making armor and weapons? That he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here, I deviate from lore. At least I think I do, heck I don't know considering we learn that the Qunari are basically dragon elves (spoiler?). Also, Talan knows Qunlat, like... fluently. I like to think that the Tal-Vashoth still speak their "native" language, even though they aren't of the Qun. They still speak the language, still use the same words, etc. He still has a very similar attitude to the Qunari (faction) though he's Imperial. It's complicated. Anyway... I thought it was a nice twist.
> 
> New: Artwork woot woot (the scaling is way off but oh wells)

Haven was never more than just a knock about place… and it swelled with the fledgling forces of the newly formed Inquisition. The Chancellor fled at the sight of Talan but his words elsewhere didn’t have the same fear. Talan was introduced to Cullen… the Commander craning his neck as he took in the Qunari. The man’s own experience with Talan’s kind staining his thoughts as he stretched his hand out to him… Talan declined the greeting. Cullen frowned but let it go, secretly grateful for it. Josephine attempted to greet him in _Qunlat_ … which only had Talan blinking at her… she squirmed and quickly changed the subject. Once the greetings where done, he couldn’t get away from them fast enough. He was nearly out the door of the chantry when a messenger trotted up, handing him a scroll and left just as fast.

Talan unrolled it, smirked and nodded, handing it to Leliana and expressing that this was… important. His squad was alive… most of them. And he wanted them freed and returned to his captain. If he couldn’t be freed, at least they could. He kept that last part to himself… Leliana promised she’d see to it personally. He wanted to believe her… but he didn’t. He sent a bird himself.

It took Cassandra nearly a week to seek him out. She was surprised to find him in the Smithy. The blacksmith having been chased out, and none too happy about it either. Cullen wanted to accompany her, as they had been talking about her concerns… they stood there, both… second guessing their planned conversation, watching Talan. He was fashioning a new breastplate… each swing of the mighty hammer coming down on the anvil with such strength that it would have taken Harret five for every one of Talan’s hits. Talan’s lengthy braids were tied behind him, still they swayed with the force as he moved. Even in the chilled mountain air, the Qunari left his torso bare. Both Cullen and Cassandra were marginally shocked to the see the bevy of scars the male held… especially on his back. The lashes unmistakable.

Talan’s brow was set low as he worked, fighting the cold mountain air. The metal grew cold so quickly… of course, that had him working all the faster. He enjoyed metalworking… his mind wandered, feeling the metal bend beneath his will… a practical application of his strength. He felt the jarring hammer strikes go through to his bones, grounding him. It didn’t take long before he got the very clear sensation of being watched… which was nothing new, but this was the kind of feeling that he was being watched with purpose. He glanced up, the hammer still raised and stilled. He took a breath and set the hammer down, plucking the now chilled plate from the anvil and walking out from under the awning. “Good, you’re here.”

Cassandra blinked as Talan just.. walked up to her, as if he had been expecting her the whole time. _How did he always do that?_ Still, he mumbled. As if he were… somehow worried over speaking too loudly. “Yes… I… wanted to speak with you. We! We… wanted to speak with—“ She was interrupted as she found herself being sized.

Talan took the few strides over to her and held the breastplate up, flicking at her arms with a charcoal pencil in his free hand to get them out of the way. Measuring it to her… his brow still low, seemingly ignoring her words. “Hmm… damn.” He had hoped he was almost done… no matter, he turned and went back into the Smithy.

“Master Adaar?” Cullen called as the male just… walked away.

Talan stopped and looked over his shoulder at Cullen, his brow still held low. “What?”

“A word?” Cullen responded simply.

Talan looked irritated… and felt it. He shook his head and marked on the breastplate before setting it back on the anvil and tossing the hunk of charred wood back into the fire. Brushing his hands off as he walked back to them, stilled and crossing his arms over his chest… giving them both the look of _well, I’m here… speak._

Cassandra was still wrapping her mind around his actions… he was making her armor? What? Cullen however, had kept them on track. “Yes… I… there is a matter that I wish to speak with you about.”

Talan got that look of being… very bored. “You already said that.” Oh, he’d heard her just fine. He had hoped though that she’d… go away. He was busy.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him and his look. “You recall when I told you of the Seekers.. and our abilities, particularly my ability?”

Cullen mirrored Talan’s stance. He too wanted to know the answer to Cassandra’s question… old habits it seemed.

Talan nodded. “Yes.” Simple and to the point.

“Right… well, when we first met… I tried to use it and… I couldn’t. I didn’t sense any lyrium within you. What I want to know is… why.” Cassandra wasn’t ashamed of what had happened between them, they had set boundaries for one another, simply put. Or rather, she had learned a valuable lesson.

Talan gave her a shrug, and said as if it were common knowledge. “That’s because I do not have lyrium running through my veins. I am a _saarebas_.” As if that explained everything.

Cullen blinked at him while Cassandra just stared. Cullen was the one to speak though. “How is that possible? All magic comes from lyrium…”

Talan raised a brow at the man. “Does it now?”

Cullen nodded. “The Chantry says…”

“The Chantry… is wrong.” Talan said simply. “Humans and even elves of this time have lyrium in them… that is the only way they are able to use magic… _saarebas_ do not. Go ahead… try again if you do not believe me.” He held his hands out from his sides.

Cullen just stared at him while Cassandra didn’t look so sure. “I… are you certain? I would not want to hurt you.”

Talan scoffed at her. “Seeker… you might get lucky in a spar, but not in this. Go ahead, I promise… you will not hurt me. Though… try not to hurt yourself.”

Cassandra noticed that his words had begun to come out stronger, more clear. She was learning well what it meant when he spoke louder. She raised her brows and gave a shrug. “If you say so…” She took a breath and reached out with her ability… the edges of her simple brown eyes glowing vibrantly as she accessed her gift. She searched for the lyrium within him… and once again… found none. She searched harder… sweat blooming on her brow as she reached for his arm. Her hand settling on him, noticing how his muscle twitched and tensed beneath her touch… how his brow went low and how it looked as if he wanted nothing more than to duck out from beneath her hand… but still, she found nothing. She finally released him and let her gift ebb. “I still don’t understand…”

Talan had to force himself to remain still while she tried to test him… once she released him though he released _himself_ , a breath he had been holding. He shuddered inwardly, running a hand over his arm where she had touched him, feeling his skin crawl at even the memory. “I told you.”

Cullen had witnessed it and still didn’t understand. “It’s… almost impossible.” He didn’t miss the way Talan reacted to being touched either… he found that rather odd as well. “What would happen if you.. _did_ … take lyrium?”

Talan visibly tensed, offense crossing his features. “I don’t know and I’ll never find out. I would never take it.”

Cassandra had to ask. “Why not?”

Talan looked at her oddly. “I’m not stupid, Seeker. I know my magic is powerful… it borders on the edge of control. To take lyrium?” He shook his head, making a face of pure disgust. “Would not only be foolish, it’d be dangerous. It’d be like… throwing _gaatlok_ onto dragon fire.”

Cullen nodded. “So… worst idea ever.”

Talan gave a dip of his head to the man. “Pretty much.”

Cassandra still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the information but she nodded anyway. “Indeed.” She watched as Talan just nodded again and went back to work, as if the conversation had never occurred. She was left standing there with Cullen, still looking perplexed and disturbed.

“He doesn’t like to be touched, does he?” Cullen commented, pulling Cassandra from deep thought.

“No… he does not.” Cassandra shook her head.

“Hmm..” Cullen just nodded… wondering why that was. But he didn’t ask, nor would he ever. In truth… Talan made him nervous. Not only was he a mage, he was a Qunari… and Cullen just didn’t trust him. But he didn’t feel bad about it at all… since he didn’t miss the way Talan watched him sometimes. And he knew the male didn’t trust him either.

  
[Off Limits Chapter 2](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Off-Limits-Chapter-2-644896280) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oil meet water. Talan and Cullen... okay so yes, Cullen has a lot of reasons not to trust nor like Talan. But come on man... that and Cassandra's just... I personally like her, she's freaking adorable.


	4. Oh yeah… Oodles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing in a card carrying member of the Qun isn't exactly number one on Talan's to-do list... but the Chargers are an asset that he wants. So, the Bull has to come along... eh... we all have our uses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Saarebas. So, I get why in game saarebas still have staffs, I get it for game mechanics etc. But as we all know, they don't need them. And I don't mean it in the way that no mage needs a staff, I mean it as in, saarebas don't use staves, at all. So, neither does Talan. We get our first hint here that Talan actually knows quite a bit about the Qun etc. As well as some more deviations.

Talan worked hard to outfit his new squad… or rather, what he had taken in his mind as his new company. He had the dwarf wearing scout armor that protected him but allowed him to move easily, the elf but not-elf Sera the same. The mage, Solas, scoffed at his armor but he wore it. Cassandra begrudgingly accepted the heavy armor, Blackwall graciously did the same. The other mage, Vivienne… refused his work but he noticed she wore it the next time they headed out… her pride was too great but her practicality won out. He smirked at them all within the confines of his mind.

He was pulling on his heavy coat and adjusting the heavy wool collar when Sera, Cassandra, and Varric all strolled right on up to him. His horns sweeping behind him as he turned, the few trinkets that Sera insisted he allow her to tie from the ends swaying with the action. Cassandra still shook her head at them… the sunburst symbol of Andraste and the iron arrow clinking together. She remembered watching Sera do it, cussing at Talan each time he flinched away when her fingers drew too near to his horn… even then he hadn’t allowed any contact. “Well… we might as well go fetch the Bull…”

Varric sighed heavily. “I still say this is a bad idea…”

Cassandra nodded. “I agree. We don’t _need_ the Qunari or his company.”

Talan shook his head at them. “The Bull’s Chargers are a well known and respected company… I’ve heard good things about them. I’m not thrilled about a _ben-hassrath_ either… but, his information could be valuable.”

“But isn’t he part of the Qun… won’t he… not like you?” Varric voiced as they saddled up.

Talan adjusted the thick reigns in his hands, smirking at the dwarf. “I’m unbound. I do not fear him… if he were _arvaarad_ then I might pause… but he’s not, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Cassandra still didn’t like it… but she said nothing more and shot a look to Varric that said he should do the same. Sera, however, missed the look. “Whatever… more horn heads is always a grand idea.” She muttered, the filly beneath her acting much like she, flighty.

Talan just rolled his eyes and they headed out to the Storm Coast. The area was damp and smelled of the sea… Talan couldn’t deny the unnatural pull he felt as he took in the salty air. Keen ears picked up fighting and unmistakable battle cries… they made their way down to the beach and dispatched a contingent of venatori almost too easily.

“Kill the _saarebas!”_ One unlucky venatori ordered before he found his insides on the outside of his body, the rest of himself turning to molten flesh.

The Iron Bull whipped around upon hearing the order… and saw Talan. He’d heard from Krem that the Harold was in fact, a _saarebas_ … but seeing one… off leash… was still unnerving. The magic this male wielded was not for the faint of heart.  He couldn’t risk staring too long, even when he saw the mane of dark braids fly around as Talan turned, his coat flying open to expose a bare chest in the chilled air, arms thrust out wide, palms up, fingers flexed and a fierce expression as spikes of glass came up from under the sand to skewer another vent. The fight was over much quicker than Bull thought it would be… thus was the way when there was a _saarebas_ on the field.

He spoke briefly with Krem as Talan strolled up… damn that male was huge. It’d been a long time since Bull found himself looking _up_ into someone’s eyes. And damned if those eyes didn’t send a chill down his spine… gold rimmed with violet. Not to mention the rack… horns that swept nearly two feet behind him in menacing arcs heading upwards… he didn’t miss the trinkets either. “Hot damn… I bet the Chantry just _loves_ you…”

Talan glanced down at this Iron Bull… a brow perked upwards just slightly as he gave a bit of a nod, his hands resting on his hips as he appeared at rest. “Oh yeah… oodles.” Could he be more sarcastic? “So… the sky tears open… demons prowl the land... and the Qun sends a _ben-hassrath_ crawling to the Inquisition for fear of their _saarebas_ Harold and the damage he may cause. Have I missed anything?”

The Iron Bull blinked at the man’s tenor, his accent and the information he already had. He glanced to Krem who just shrugged and gave him a look of _I didn’t say shit._ “You forgot about the _ben-hassrath_ reports that I’ll be getting.”

Talan gave a frown and a nod, turning to look out over the sea as he ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, apparently mulling it over.

Bull narrowed his eyes on this male, watching how his breathing was… too steady. He was too still… and quickly realized that he only appeared to be calm. On the surface he was cool and collected, but like all _saarebas_ , on the inside? He was a barrel of _gaatlok_ and it would only take a little push to set him off. At least, that’s what he thought he knew. “We’re worth it… plus, you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me… you need a front line body guard… I’m your man.”

Talan raised a brow at him again, turning to look at him… his gaze running up and down him as if to say _seriously?_ “Oh… I don’t want _you_ … I want the Chargers. But since you’re… a tag-along… I guess you can come too. Your reports go through Leliana… and I don’t have to tell you what will happen if I don’t like what she sees.”

Bull blinked at that. What… uh… okay… “You got it, Boss.” He thrust a hand out to seal the deal and was confused when Talan just stared down at it, recoiled almost and walked past him, aiming for the others he had come with. Krem joined him a moment later. “Pack it up, Krem… we just got hired.” He still wore the confused look as he watched Talan stroll along, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I think…”

Back at Haven, Bull found that his camp had been set beside the Smithy…. Which was fine, except for the fact that Talan was apparently… the smith. He had talked to Cullen about it… repeatedly. But his request to be moved was denied, Cullen claimed there was nowhere else for them to go, if they wanted to be together. Bull groaned heavily at that… but he learned to deal with it. He took the opportunity to watch the _saarebas_ closely. He watched how Cassandra sparred with him in the snow covered training yard… how she’d lung and he’d dodge, how he used a wooden staid and how she’d nearly cleave it in half… how he’d send a spell at her, a weak one… but she’d block it and when she didn’t, he’d bark at her. “Move faster, Seeker!” And Cassandra would grow more determined. He’d watch as Sera would try desperately to get him to allow her to dot his braids with snowdrops she’d plucked from the mountain side, and how he’d list away from her hands, growling low at her. He watched as Solas kept his distance but how Blackwall would sit in the Smith well into the night and they’d share stories with Varric and the laughter would drift… Talan had a laugh that could be heard three doors down for how deep it was. He watched how Cullen cast a wary eye at the male… and how Josephine busied after him while he threw papers over his shoulder… cursing too low for her to hear him. He noticed how Vivienne kept her distance, much like Solas did, but how she did speak with him in hushed tones whenever he entered the Chantry. Though they usually ended up arguing and he’d usually throw a few insults at her in _Qunlat_ , the female being ignorant to the words meanings would let the words roll over her with nothing more than a shake of her head.

The Bull noticed too though… often, in the midnight hours, Talan would hoist himself up onto the roof of the Smithy and just sit there. His head craned back, glaring at the breach with a hatred etched into his face that it was a wonder he didn’t wear the expression all the time. He’d fist his marked hand as he held his arms around his bent knees and just… sit there… for hours. Bull saw how he looked to the west more often than not… that look of longing so profound in his gaze that the Bull felt the need to glance, to see if someone or something was just over the horizon.

One morning, Cassandra and Varric were at the Smithy getting ready to head out when the Bull heard Talan’s unmistakable command. “Bull.” He didn’t yell it… in fact, he noticed too that Talan rarely raised his voice above a mumble unless it was important. This time though, it was clear.

“Yeah, Boss?” Bull ducked out from under the awning of his own tent and walked over to the group as they readied their horses, noticing Talan was, as usual, bare-chested. His heavy leathers ending in thick boots that thudded when he walked, no matter the ground. He had just led another draft to the side of his own and tied it there when the Bull walked up.

Talan secured the knot and glanced to the _ben-hassrath_ as he joined them. Today… he was taking the Bull with them. “You’re up.” He reached over the low wall and plucked a bowl from the table, the silver _vitaar_ shinning in the bright morning sun. He held the bowl up and took a few steps towards him.

Bull blinked at the words and the gesture both. “All right. What… is that?” He glared at the bowl untrustingly, his eyes flicking to Talan’s face, where the _vitaar_ was still drying.

It was Talan’s turn to blink. “ _Vitaar._ ” He dipped two fingers into the thick clay like paint as he drew up before the Bull.

Bull shook his head. “Uh, no thanks.” He didn’t get much else out as he felt his chin ensnared by a firm grip. “Wha—“

Talan had set the bowl back down on the ledge of the wall and took hold of the Bull’s chin, feeling the disgust ripple up his own arm at the contact. “My people don’t go out unprotected.” He ground out, the low rumble of his voice barely audible as he slid his fingers down under the Bull’s eye and eye patch, up over the center of his brow and down the underside of his chin. “We’re going to Redcliff today… any mage that takes you on will think twice.” He released him and felt the relief within his own chest, brushing his fingers on his leathers and capping the bowl before turning away but stopping as he saw Bull lifting a hand. “ _Teth a_ … let it dry, first… you act like you’ve never worn _vitaar_ before.” He shook his head at him.

Bull could feel Talan’s discomfort at the contact, confirming his suspicion that this male… did not like to be touched… or to touch… at all. But his touch was surprisingly gentle… and once done he couldn’t resist wanting to feel the thick clay on his face. The reprimand came swift and he lowered his hand just as quickly. “I haven’t.”

Talan blinked at him. “What has the _Qun_ come to when _ben-hassrath_ don’t even wear proper armor?” He shook his head as he mounted the heavy draft, taking the reigns easily.

Bull rolled his eye at the male but followed, mounted the draft he had been given and followed the Harold.

“How come you don’t try to paint our faces?” Varric questioned, he was curious.

Talan smirked down at the dwarf as they rode along. “Consider it a blessing, little man. _Vitaar_ is poisonous to any other race… I don’t know why, so don’t ask. Just.. make sure you don’t touch it.” He glanced to Cassandra and the look said _same for you_. Varric bristled under the term but gave a nod and said nothing more, for awhile.

  
[Off Limits Chapter 3](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Off-Limits-Chapter-3-646414818) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehe... oodles. Talan's such a snarky ass when it comes to Bull here, cracks me up. The relationship between Talan and Bull is just... ah... well, I can't go into it here obviously. But it's a good one.


	5. The Magister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hole in the sky? Shitty but okay. Demons? No problem, they die easily enough. Even dealing with Chantry Mothers and asshole Lord Seekers wasn't that bad... but what waited in Redcliffe was something Talan wasn't ready for. All those years counted for not when it came to the Magister...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it begins. We're starting to get a little into Talan's backstory here and... well, it's not pleasant. So here we go.

The trip to Redcliffe was mostly uneventful… but once they arrived, things went ten kinds of wonky. The trio all looked to him when they learned from a scout that they weren’t expected… Talan’s brow creased with the news. He didn’t like it… at all. Talan glanced down at Cassandra as they exchanged likewise expressions… she didn’t like it either. Just when they had started down the road further, an elven man approached and introduced himself and explained things further. _Magister Alexius…_ Talan’s entire body went rigid, his expression hardened to the point where the elf shrunk back from him.

Bull watched as Talan reacted. It made little sense to him… this male had never fought Tevinters, what was his deal? He wasn’t the only one who was confused over their leader’s sudden change in temperament. They all followed him as he made his way into the village, his gate turned predatory, his brow held down in a perpetual scowl. When Talan stood beside the open door of the tavern, holding it for them all, Bull caught his eye and faltered in his own step. _Holy hell…_ the male’s eyes were rolling with rage fueled anger. “Boss…”

Talan’s hearing was obstructed with the sound of his own pulse, blood rushing through his body as his anger flowed through him. A _magister_ … here. He knew nothing of this _Alexius_. He didn’t care either. He had one single thought, a single course of action. Murder shined in his eyes as he looked at Bull, he shook his head sharply at the male and kicked his chin towards the tavern. “Inside.” He growled under his breath at the aged Qunari.

Bull’s expression showed his confusion, a shake of his head given as he spoke in hushed tones while he passed the clearly angered _saarebas_. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He moved into the tavern and caught Cassandra’s eye, indicating with a subtle sweep of his horns to Talan. The Seeker caught his meaning and judging by the way her eyes widened just slightly, she got a good eye-full of the growing-more-pissed-by-the-second Harold.

Talan bared his teeth at Bull’s suggestion, just slightly but enough. He closed the tavern door behind them and walked further in… Fiona standing there so brazenly. He could strike her for her idiocy. “Care to explain this one to me?” Fiona offered her confused explanation that she had no idea what they were doing there… why the Inquisition had come… Talan glanced at Cassandra for clarification. The Seeker speaking in his stead over their invitation. An invitation that Fiona herself had given them.

Fiona was only more confused. “I apologize but that was not me… I have been here this whole time. In any event… as one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority…” She stalled out, her words dying in her throat as the Qunari, the younger one… his eyes… they snapped with not anger… more than that, pure rage.

Talan’s hands fisted at his sides, barely leashing his desire to end her useless life and rid the world of her stupidity. “You _fool_.” He growled at her. “You have condemned all of them.”

“Come now… is that any way to speak to her. She sought only to protect the southern mages.” Alexius strolled into the main room of the tavern, his son flanking him. The Magister’s inner thoughts secret and only for himself.

Talan’s eyes flicked to the man. The accent… the robes… his muscles all tensed as his control strained. Yet he did not speak, his spine rigid as he stood there. The Magister drew closer to him… joining their conversation properly. Talan stared at him hard for awhile but… he cut his eyes away, casting them to the floor, his chin dipping as he did so, his horns arcing upwards with the action. He didn’t look up again, nor did he find his voice… so much for all that anger, a lot of bloody good it did him now. It was as if a switch had been flipped.

Alexius witnessed the action and a sick satisfaction appeared upon his smug face… he knew that look well. “Who do I have the pleasure of negotiating with today?” He looked to the hard woman… the other Qunari easily ignored.

Cassandra blinked as the Magister fixed his gaze upon her… she glanced to the Harold and was stunned to see him standing there, as a statue, the muscles in his neck tensing and releasing as she saw the slightest tremble going down his spine. He was… Maker’s Breath… he was afraid. She cleared her throat and returned her hardened gaze to the Magister. “Seeker Penteghast.” She followed Alexius to a nearby table as they fell into talks.

Bull stepped up beside Talan, looking over to him with the same confusion that Cassandra had a moment ago. _What the hell…_ he saw the way Talan’s face was set as if in stone, his brows were low yet the rest of him was expressionless… his eyes still rolled with unspent power… his shoulders tense yet slumped, his eyes fixed upon the floor as if he daren’t look up… he was acting as if… Bull denied the thought the moment it came to him. Surely not. Yet he continued to observe the way Talan stood there, his stance squared off, his feet shoulder width apart… but he noticed his hands. That’s what gave it away… they _had_ been at his side. Bull realized he’d seen it… when it happened, it was just now registering though. The closer the Magister had gotten to him, the further behind his back his fists had gone and now they were touching, index knuckle to index knuckle. _Holy Shit…_ Bull looked back at Talan’s face with realization sinking in. Bull knew that stance… Tevinter… slaves… stood like that. _Mother fucker…_ now it made sense why that damn Magister had looked to Cassandra and hadn’t even attempted speaking with the Harold. He’d obviously recognized it as well. _Shit._ Bull looked over to where Cassandra and that fucking Magister were still sitting. He noticed the Magister’s son however, hadn’t joined them… he was standing nearby but kept looking over at Talan, as if he wanted to speak with _him_ , not the Seeker.

Talan stood there… he just fucking stood there. Fear had dumped into him, glued him to the floor… and he was busy hating himself at the same time. _What the actual fuck, you fucking baby._ But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak… he couldn’t even fucking look up. He heard Cassandra speaking for him… they knew, they all knew now. He was sure of it. Good, maybe they’ll give up and let him go now. He heard the Magister tell his son to fetch a scribe… he heard the boy’s footsteps drawing near and suddenly, he fell into him. Talan hissed loudly with a sharp intake of breath but dutifully caught the man.

“Forgive me… I am… so sorry.” Felix mumbled, flustered as he stuffed the note into the Qunari’s coat. He pushed away from him, righting himself. “I am so clumsy sometimes. Please, forgive me.”  Alexius rushed to him, fretting over him. Felix allowed it, managing to catch the Harold’s eye before he was whisked away… _read it_. He begged with the look he sent him.

Talan was reeling from the sudden contact… the moment the Magister and his son were gone, Fiona and the other mage having already left… he turned and rushed to the rubbish can in the corner, what remained of his lunch vacating his stomach violently. He gripped the nearby pillar as the wood beneath his grasp began to smolder… the wretches hadn’t stopped before he felt a heavy hand on his back. He listed away from it, not daring to look… instead he reached into his coat and blindly thrust the note behind him. _Stop it… stop. Just stop. Don’t touch me. Stop._ Talan’s eyes were slammed shut to the world as he tried to mentally will his stomach to stop trying to come up his throat. He felt sweat dripping down his spine beneath his coat, chills pouring over him in waves of nausea, the combination only adding to his discomfort.

Bull held his hand up and then took the note before simply passing it on to Cassandra. “Easy, Boss. Just… breath.” _What the actual fuck!_ Bull had never seen anything like this before… if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Talan poisoned or something, the way he was acting.

Cassandra took the note with a sudden grasp, her eyes fixed on Talan as he wretched. “Talan…” She questioned yet glanced down at the note. _Meet me in the chantry. You are in danger._ “Felix wants to meet us in the Chantry.” She said low, passing the note to Varric who was just standing there like a bump on a log… as if she was doing any better. She tugged her water skin from her belt and offered it to Bull. What was wrong with him? That was what her look said, her expression, her demeanor, all of it. Did the Magister do something to him while they weren’t looking?!

Talan heard Bull but couldn’t breathe, not really. The way his body was flipping from hot to cold had him shaking his head sharply, he jerked his coat off, letting it fall around his feet as he once again braced himself, leaning against the thick timber, his other hand settling on his knee as he felt the tremble go through him. He heard the audible gasp behind him, knowing what Cassandra was seeing.

Cassandra’s hand was over her mouth… Talan’s coat was around his feet and his bare back was to her, his muscles trembling, the multiple scars that bisected his back covered in sweat. She knew well what made scars like those… the marks left by whips were unmistakable. She glanced down at Varric, the dwarf was now the one with his eyes fixed upon the floor. She looked at Bull, the Qunari was just looking upon their Harold with a solemn expression. She quickly recovered… “We should… we should see what this Felix wants from us.”

Talan shuddered as another wave of nausea flowed through him but he dutifully nodded… he felt the cool air on his upper body and welcomed the steady temperature, how it forced his body to ease its adventures in rollercoaster temperaments. He released a ragged breath as he straightened, wiping his mouth on the back of his forearm. He caught Bull’s hand coming towards him out of the corner of his eye and he flinched violently away, nearly stumbling. “Don’t fucking touch me again…” The words were crude but his tone didn’t come out harsh, there was a plea there that he hated, bisected by another heave that threatened him.

Bull held his hand up and away, his brows going high. “Sorry, Boss.” He gave him a firm nod… _holy crap._ This went far beyond simply not _liking_ to be touched… he saw the association immediately, the way the disgust rolled over Talan at the mere thought in, apparently, his raw state. Physical contact actually disgusted him… it wasn’t just a preference. It could _actually_ cause a physical response of disgust. Whether it was a combination of his obvious past and that boy, Felix, landing upon him… or if it was simply the boy, either way… it had sent Talan into a tailspin. “You solid?” Bull had bent down and plucked the heavy coat from the floor, _damn this thing weighed a ton_ … he mused as he held it out to him as well as offering the water skin.

Talan swallowed roughly, the sticky way his tongue ran over the roof of his mouth was oddly familiar… _when the hell are you going to get over this crap…_ he took his coat and nodded to the Qunari, holding his gaze, unashamed. He knew well his weakness, he hated himself for it… but he wasn’t blind to it. He took the water skin, pulled from it greedily, rinsed his mouth and spat into the can before tossing it back to Cassandra. He pulled his coat on and took a deep breath before brushing past them all, a roll of his shoulder and he stuffed all that crap down into himself. “Let us see what the Magister’s son wants.” The rest of his companions followed… concerned but willing to leave it alone seeing as how he rebounded so quickly. None of them spoke of what they had witnessed, not ever again.

  
[Down](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Down-657945546) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so... that happened. As I've mentioned before in tumblr posts about Talan, he knows about his... quirks... and he deals with them the best he can, he doesn't deal with the root of the problem because no but he just pushes through it and keeps on going. He doesn't want to focus on them, so he doesn't. But they're a part of him and that's just how it is. Yeah... it's just how his character developed.
> 
> The art is of him when he was... younger.


	6. That's What You're Going With?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if a Magister wasn't bad enough... now Talan had to deal with yet another silk spun Tevinter who grandstanded like the best of them. Time travel and an Elder One. Well, this day just keeps getting better and better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bridge chapter, laying down groundwork and passing from one thing to another as well as showing just a hint of Talan's personality, which can be quite practical when the need calls for it.

It was in the Chantry that they met, Dorian.

Dorian had heard that the Harold was a Qunari… but still, it hadn’t prepared him for the sight of the _saarebas_ that slipped into the Chantry. The male was enormous.. with eyes that went right through him. The fade rift was closed almost… so easily. And the male rolled with his quips and accepted the information he gave him… without any hint of his own thoughts on the matter. But, he seemed… perceptive. His appearance was still gnawing at him when he snuck out of the Chantry a short time later… the male’s dark braids that nearly reached his waist… the way he walked, how he carried himself. The power he wielded and not just the marked hand either. He was confident in a way that Dorian hadn’t seen in a long time… and his tenor? That accent was… he’d surprised Dorian, that was for sure. Still… he was a brutish creature all the same.

Talan wasn’t sure what to make of this grand standing Tevinter mage. This, Dorian… his bravado did him little credit, but his courage to go against a former mentor and apparently, his country… was commendable, even if Talan believed it completely misplaced. And it secured his decision to rescue the southern mages. Perhaps it was his own soft spot for mages in servitude that did it… but he had decided… he wanted the mages… as allies. It probably helped Dorian more than hurt him, the fact that Talan was well versed on Tevinter politics… and he knew well that Dorian was no Magister.

Confronting Alexius a few days later was… complicated, for a variety of reasons. One moment they were in the here and now… and the next, he found himself alone… with Dorian… a year into the future. He landed harshly in the water, a second later… Dorian atop him. He hissed with the discomfort on a number of levels. Venatori guards were there, a moment later… they were no more. Talan was still catching his breath as he turned wildly, looking around them… still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened when Dorian spoke up.

“Easy there, big guy…” Dorian didn’t like the near panic he saw on the face of this _saarebas_.

Talan pinned Dorian with a glare for the tone he had received, jerked his now wet coat off and flicked it to the side with a growl. “Alright… any thoughts? Plans? Advice? Anything? I’m very open at this particular juncture…” He was still working on getting his breathing under control as he gestured for information to come to him.

Dorian registered somewhere in his mind that Talan was rather… well, scarred up to be honest… but rather muscular as well, defined. He barely resisted the urge to laugh at the man’s words though. “Well… Alexius must have sent us… through time… somehow… we’re still in the castle..”

Talan stilled… blinked… and barked out an incredulous laugh. “Time travel? That’s… that’s what you’re going with. Okay, I’m now a elven maiden and you’re the Qunari… see? I can list things that are completely impossible too.”

Dorian glared at him. “I’m not kidding around. I know what I’m talking about. This is just the sort of thing I worked on with Alexius, though it was just theoretical… he must have figured out a way to make it work…”

Talan groaned, he had been holding out hope… that it _had_ been a joke. “Shit. Well… there’s got to be a way… back or something?”

Dorian looked around. “Alexius used an amulet to cast the spell… if we can get our hands on it… we might be able to reverse it..  but we have to find out when we are, exactly.”

Talan sighed heavily. “Alright.. let’s make it happen, Cap’in.” He ground out as he turned away and peeked out the barred door.

Dorian watched as this _saarebas_ took the information and just… went with it. Turning away from him and leaning slightly to see if the coast was clear for them to proceed through the bowels of the castle. He was still marginally impressed by both that heavy mane of corded braids and the ease in which the Qunari moved, not so much as dinging his horns on the low (for him) hanging bars of the cell doors. Which was only natural, he supposed. It also hadn’t escaped his notice that this male… did not carry nor even use a staff… apparently he had no need of one. As they continued on, Dorian was continuously surprised as Talan was not like any mage he had ever seen… the male used stealth and blade along with his magic to take down guards.

They made their way through the castle… and Talan’s discomfort ratcheted further when he found both Cassandra and Varric… infected with red lyrium. He reached for them both but pulled back… then they found Leliana. She was more practical and he was grateful for it. Their battle with Alexius was hard… but it was hard won. Then… Talan had to stand there and watch his people… die. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But Dorian had kept a hand on his forearm the entire time… and Talan was grateful for it. For the first time… he was grateful for the hold, the firm grip that kept his boots planted where they were as he watched them get cut down, dragged away… killed. The growl that grew in his chest and rumbled forth out of his throat, bursting forth from clenched teeth that ruptured into a howl at the sight chilled Dorian for the agony he heard. But he witnessed Talan’s extreme control… the _saarebas_ didn’t dare use his magic while Dorian cast his spell… for fear of disrupting it. When the portal finally opened, Dorian found himself being ensnared and lifted completely off his feet as Talan threw them both through it.

They landed steady on the other side only for the strength in Talan’s legs. In one swift move, Dorian was released and Talan descended upon Alexius. Menacing could not begin to describe the aura around the _saarebas_ as he bared down on the magister. Alexius stuttered and sputtered, crouching down in fear as this male descended upon him… he’d yet to deal with him, hadn’t expected to… and yet here he was, bending beneath this creature’s fury. Talan had no mercy in him for Alexius… but as repayment for Dorian’s aid… he showed it to Alexius and spared his life once they returned to the present. And even though Cassandra and a few others disagreed… he won the southern mages with an alliance… and returned to Haven to deal with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm partial but Talan cracks me up sometimes...


	7. We Are Not Slavers Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talan had little interest in dealing with the fallout from Redcliffe... but when did it matter what he was interested in dealing with? Though he did pick up yet another tag-along... the silk spun mage with the glib tongue that insisted on lending his so called expertise to the Inquisition. As if dealing with the Commander's lingering prejudiced wasn't enough... now temptation was knocking. Great.

Talan stood there while Cullen voiced his disapproval and discomfort over the alliance… and Josephine backed by Leliana, defended it. He’d settled his hands on his hips, grateful for the spare jacket he’d managed to whip together against the chill. The wool feeling warm against his skin… his thoughts straying when Cullen’s angry voice broke through the fog.

“What were you thinking?!” Cullen glared at the Qunari. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking!?

Talan’s gaze snapped to the man, so lost in his anger and so used to his presence that he didn’t shrink away from it anymore, which was… good, really. “I am _no one’s_ master, Cullen. Mages deserve their freedom, they have _earned_ it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the stitching of the coat stretching even for as large as it was as he stared down at the man. “Or should they all be collared?”

Cassandra opened her mouth to aid the Commander, even she could see the verbal trap he was walking into, but she didn’t get the chance. He spoke anyway. “No, of course not, but they cannot be left unsupervised.” Cullen mirrored the Harold’s stance, his brow going low as he went on the defense, knowing full well that this conversation was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Unsupervised? Hmmm.” Talan rolled his lips as he nodded, glancing at his feet as he took a small step towards the Commander, effectively cutting the women out of the talks. “Because supervision worked so well in the circles. There was never a danger of demons there while the noble Templars stood guard. Pillars of strength and honor, every one of them.” He pinned the man with his unnatural gaze.

“It may not have worked all the time but it was better than nothing. I’ve seen what mages can do… and I’ll not allow that to happen here. To ignore their vulnerabilities and their inabilities is foolish and reckless, we cannot allow them free run of the camp.” Cullen countered, swaying slightly as he grew more agitated.

“Inabilities? And what, pray tell, would those be?” Talan saw the man’s hatred just there, on the edge of his words. He also saw his fear. He couldn’t fault him for the fear but it was the hate that he could not let stand.

“Oh, this is ridiculous.” Cullen threw a hand out and started to turn away. He wasn’t going to go around in circles with this Qunari.

“No, I want to hear you say it.” Talan sounded off, his voice rising a few levels, making it known that this conversation had gone from minor irritation to more importance.

Cullen turned back to look at him, noting the tone. “Their inability to control their magic, control themselves, and to resist the temptations that demons bring.” He rattled off the reasons. Vivienne, who’s station was nearby, agreed completely as she listened on.

Talan’s face hardened at the man… a single step was all it took for him to draw up before him, one move later and he had the Commander’s arm snared, another swift move, the man’s sleeve was jerked up to expose the various track marks that were all too common on Templars of Cullen’s previous rank. Templars for which drafts were no longer enough. “Indeed. We should trust Templars who exude such high levels of control. Who battle their own demons so… effectively.” His grip was firm even as his stomach rolled with the contact. He held fast to the man’s elbow even as he attempted to jerk away. “Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones, Commander. Mages have better control over themselves than a man who knowingly poisons himself, ever will.” He released him roughly, allowing him to regain his composure. He ran his hands down the front of his own coat, not even trying to hide the disgust on his face as he mentally cleaned the touch off. “And a man who has let hate stain his heart will never find peace, no matter the company he keeps.” He gave a wide sweep of his horns as he turned, pinning each of the advisors with his fierce gaze. “We are _not_ slavers here, the mages keep their freedom.” He adjusted his collar with a jerk of his shoulder and left the chantry, lengthy strides aiding him as his own anger flowed through him. Damn _bas_ … how could they be so ignorant.

Cullen opened his mouth in alarm as his eyes went wide, finding himself grabbed so firmly by this wall of Qunari. His shame brought to bear had him pull for release. The words rolled over him like ice that his mind refused to accept… but his heart shied away from them at the same time. He stumbled when the hold was loosed, quickly pulling his sleeve back down and hiding the marks of his old life. He saw the look on the Qunari’s face… and then the last words for him. Cullen swallowed down the anger, the shame… the pain. The last order, and that was what it was… was given and it had Cullen and the advisors exchanging looks… they spoke no more on the matter but Cullen quickly excused himself. He didn’t want to hear what the _saarebas_ had said… but he knew he had needed to hear it. If he wanted to change… if he wanted to be a better man than he had been in Kirkwall… he’d needed to hear it.

Vivienne however, didn’t want to hear those words. She didn’t want to change… she’d wanted to go back to the way it had been. When she’d had protection, power, and station. She glared as the Qunari stormed past and left the Chantry. _Fool_.

Dorian had witnessed the exchange and found it… rather odd, if he were to be honest. This Qunari ordering these other people around. Making a point, and a rather valid one… to this ex-Templar. Silencing him with logical yet emotional words that rumbled forth from this large creature, there was a wisdom there that he hadn’t expected. His own experience with the Qunari, however brief it had been… hadn’t prepared him for _that_. He spoke briefly with the Ambassador, expressing that he would be staying with the Inquisition. Lady Josephine was quite accommodating, assigning him a cabin and everything. Dorian was actually surprised at the hospitality… of course, he didn’t trust it. He suspected it had more to do with the fact that he had saved their Harold than anything else. He could _feel_ the distrust in Leliana’s gaze… though he still couldn’t look at her for very long. The memory still so fresh in his mind of what she had looked like in the future. He strolled out of the Chantry, effectively ignoring the glares, stares, and whispers as he sauntered along. Grateful for the massive cloak he insisted on purchasing in Val Royeaux, he pulled it around himself tighter against the chill, loathing the south even more in the moment that a cold wind whipped down off the mountain and aimed, as far as he was concerned, right at _him_. The gracious Ambassador had instructed him to go to the Smithy to be outfitted with proper armor and weaponry, though he had attempted to graciously decline… the Lady would not hear it so he found himself trudging through the slush and the snow, aiming for the Smithy. He’d had to stop once to ask for directions and luckily, the dwarf- Varric, gave him no flack over being from Tevinter and simply pointed him in the right direction. By the time Dorian heard the telling sounds of a hammer striking an anvil, he swore his toes were frozen. He saw another warrior out in the training yard with the resident Seeker, the spar they were partaking in was rather ruthless and Dorian cringed at the sight. He passed another Qunari, he’d seen him earlier, but still… veering his path to give the boisterous camp a wide girth. He ducked into the Smithy, stomping the snow from his poor boots, not even looking up he fluttered his heavy cloak open, welcoming the warmth from the forge. “I don’t know how you southerners stand it!” He exclaimed, still trying to get some stubborn snow from his boots.

Talan had the hammer still in the air when he heard the words drift through the Smithy. He blinked and looked, a brow raised as his thoughts had been interrupted. He shook his head and continued with his work, a pair of bracers for Cullen. He knew he’d exposed the man’s shame and while it was valid… he still felt the need to apologize, in this small way. “We stay by the fire.” He ground out, sweat already bloomed all over his body, his torso bare as he preferred it. His leathers worn and still the same from earlier in the day. His braids pulled back and tied roughly with leather to stay out of his way… the _vitaar_ gone from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (((Cullen))) Ah! Muh babay!! But seriously, he needed to chill. Every time I do a play through I'm like seriously people, we aren't going to start enslaving people! But w/e's. Obviously Talan feels strongly about both topics... and yeah... now Dorian's all *there*.


	8. Careful With That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Talan had a sovereign for every time he controlled himself in situations like this, he'd be broke as a joke. But now he had one... so yay for him. Leave it to him to get all twisted up inside, even more than usual, right now. When there's a freaking hole in the sky and everyone going crazy... yeah, that's the perfect time to start feeling anything at all.

Dorian’s gaze snapped up at the voice, he blinked once… then twice, watching the Qunari pound out the metal. Why… was the Harold… here? Each swing of the hammer sent a tremor through the male’s muscles and a loud ping out into the air, forcing the metal to bend to his will. Even without the war paint, he looked… somehow, more menacing. “I can see that.” Dorian managed as he drifted in further, being drawn in by the warmth, or so he told himself. He palmed a few tools and weapons on the benches, watching the _saarebas_ out of the corner of his eye. “So… Harold of Andraste _, Saarebas,_ and metal worker? Is there anything you cannot do?” His tone was naturally, lofty and smooth, thus was his way.

Talan snatched the metal off the anvil and tossed it back on the fire, resting the hammer on the bench and turning to lean on the same, bracing himself against it. “Knit. Never could get the hang of it.”

Dorian blinked and smirked at the reply. “Ah yes, I can’t imagine your hands allow for such delicate work.” He set one of the daggers back onto the bench and looked around the work space, doing most anything not to look intently at the Qunari. He noticed how the male was looking down at the ground though, as if he was purposefully not focusing on _him_ either. “Your delightful Lady Ambassador insisted that I be outfitted with _proper_ armor and weaponry. Though I must admit that I am surprised to see you are the one who will be doing the outfitting, I assume.”

Talan nodded. Of course he was here for armor. He shoved off and gestured before him as he pulled down a strap of leather that he kept hanging on a rafter overhead. “Well, come on then.”

Dorian watched as… was that disappointment that flashed on his features? How curious. He dutifully walked over and stood there, feeling like a freaking tool, just standing there. “Is this… like… this?” He held his arms out, as if he were at a tailor.

Talan smirked ever so slightly, laying the strap over his own shoulder and shaking his head. He reached and undid the clasp of the man’s cloak, freeing it and sliding the nearly soaked up to the knee fabric and tossing it aside, ignoring the frown Dorian gave him. Surely it was expensive… and wholly ineffective for how much moisture it collected. He took hold of the leather once more and began building a mental picture of Dorian’s frame, aided by the strap’s tick marks. Even still, he didn’t touch him… he wanted to… but he didn’t. And that, well that alone had him all twisted up inside. _What the actual fuck_. And he wore an expression to match, his brow held low and lips formed into a thin line. He found himself… unnaturally drawn to this man. This… _Tevinter_. Of course he would. Because he was _him_. Talan had always found males more appealing than females but… his own issues with contact had… stained his personal life. Yeah, they were all messed up in some way. He personally believed he had just been born sick, but that was neither here nor there. His own mind was skipping around in a few thousand directions as he measured out this elegant man before him.

Dorian hadn’t been _this_ close to a Qunari until the Harold… before it had been all instinct and battle readiness but now? With things calm around them, it was… different. The male seemed to suck in all the space around him and even though the Smithy was plenty big enough, Dorian felt as though they were suddenly thrust into a box together. The clasp of his cloak undone and Dorian hid his expression well… he swallowed down his apprehension. He swayed and craned his neck to look up at this… strange male. But… he wasn’t looking at him. In fact, once again, it was as if he was making it a point not to. “Careful with that.” He chided, finding it odd that his voice had gone so… uncharacteristically quiet. He expected the Qunari to handle him roughly and found… that he actually didn’t handle him at all. He felt nothing but the strap of leather being slid around his body, measuring here and there firmly but not tightly. Not once did he feel even the brush of a finger. How odd. That of course triggered the memory of himself being nearly swallowed by those thick arms when they traveled through time… that entire thought alone was so full of unbelievable facts that it was… well, ridiculous. He’d held on. He remembered how he’d wrapped his arms around him, held on tight for fear of being separated as they barreled through the fabric of time itself. One couldn’t make a trip like that without feeling _something_ for their traveling companion. Right? Dorian hid the sigh well, shaking his head slightly at himself and his own idiotic train of thought. The Qunari stooped down further to measure around his thighs as he spread his legs to accommodate him, noting the massive horns and the trinkets that dangled just there within reach. So… he reached, palming the sunburst symbol. “Rather odd, this.” He ran his thumb over the religious symbol, finding it very odd indeed. His fingers stretching, curiosity taking hold as he reached, following the leather tie and running the pad of his fingers over the ridges of the Qunari’s horn… finding them oddly smooth and strangely… beautiful. It took him more than a moment to realize that the _saarebas_ had gone completely still… rigid from the second he had made contact. Could he truly feel this so… intensely?

Talan was still struggling with the close proximity as he measured out for the leathers and corresponding leg armor when he felt the trinket shift, knowing that the man was holding it had him swallow harshly. He wanted to respond… but couldn’t find his voice so simply remained silent. Then… the ripple of sensation trailed along the rigid bone of his horn. Then… c _ontact_. He froze, his eyes widened before he slammed them shut, willing himself to remain still and not lash out. _Easy… easy…_ he could scarcely breath for the pins and needle feeling that raced down the horn and slipped along his skull.

Dorian’s brows went low just slightly as he focused on the Qunari… was it truly so easy to still him so effectively? Was it perhaps some… sort of off switch for their kind? He suspected there was more to it than that, surely there had to be. A mighty race such as this couldn’t have such an obvious vulnerability. Still, it was… powerful. This massive male… his head still bowed and crouched before him… seemingly frozen out of what? Fear? Nervousness? Or was he poising to strike? Dorian realized he knew surprisingly little about the Qunari for all the centuries his homeland had been at war with them. Still… he slid his hand further, his fingers wrapping around, making to grasp the horn, finding an unnatural urge to feel the girth in his grip.

Talan forced himself to swallow down the feeling in his throat… it was a mixture of want and disgust. For a moment… he thought maybe want would win. Then he felt the move to hold and his mind flashed to another time, another place, another hand. His eyes flew open, flaring and wide with panic, flashing with warning. He reached up, ensnaring the Tevinter’s hand in a strong grip as he stood up, slowly… it was a very hard thing to do. To not growl… to not attack. To not show how much of an animal he truly was. As he stood, he was too close to the man, he knew that. He swallowed against the tightness he felt in his chest, breathing shallow to keep it at bay but he knew, there in his eyes the warning would be evident and he could do nothing about that. “Please… do not do that… ever again.”

Dorian realized his mistake when he felt the air shift around the male, the grip came a second later and Dorian felt himself seem to shrink under the height of the _saarebas_. The unspent power in those mystical eyes held him transfixed… and he felt.. insignificant under that gaze. He would never admit it… but it had scared him. To the point where he couldn’t move… but he felt the hand around his own firm, but not painful. The words… and the tone they held, so controlled.. a bit of pleading there beneath them… had his lips part and his brow crease with… confusion? Concern? It was apparent that Dorian had unknowingly stumbled headfirst into a wound of some kind. It took him a moment to find his own voice for the intensity of the moment as it ticked on around them. “Understood.” Was all he could manage and then, just like that… it was over. His hand was released and the male turned away from him, his horns sweeping over his own head, clearing it easily. As if to point out even further how much larger he was than himself. And true to himself, Dorian pushed it aside, tucking it away for later dissection. “I just realized, I do not know your name. Or… are you a follower of the Qun… and have no name?”

Talan released the man’s hand, though he found it hard to do so. That alone only added to his discomfort. At least he’d kept himself under control… _well give me a gold fucking star_. He thought bitterly as he threw the strap down, obviously in a sour mood now. The question drew his attention as he tilted his head slightly, fanning the forge flames at the same time. “My name is Talan. And I am unbound.” He recited the introduction much as he always did. With a certain amount of pride. “You are foolish to think I could be part of the Qun… for I still have the ability to speak.” He ground out the last words, throwing a hunk of onyx into the fire.

Dorian indeed feel foolish for even asking, of course he wasn’t a member of the Qun. He _was_ a mage after all. He got the distinct impression that the male would speak no further so he left him to his work… retrieving his cloak and seeking out the cabin that he’d been assigned. Though he didn’t miss the odd look the Bull gave him when he passed by… as if he had a third arm growing out of his forehead. “What?” Dorian barked at him.

The Bull, who had witnessed the entire exchange, for the Smithy was open to the world… had been ready to intervene. He knew Talan didn’t like to be touched… or to touch. And he’d seen firsthand what happened when _anyone_ attempted to grab hold of that Qunari’s horns. Scores of enemies had tried on the battlefield and they ignited the _saarebas_ like nothing ever had. He’d seen that action alone fill the male with a rage that was… bordered on madness. Obviously, the male had some baggage that he’d yet to deal with and that one action was a trigger… like a _gaatlok_ barrel, Talan would lash out viciously. So… when he saw Dorian reach… the Bull had been ready… when he saw Dorian move to _grab_ , The Bull had already started walking over. But then… Talan hadn’t attacked. He’d controlled himself. The Bull stuttered in his mind over that… what… the… hell? Then he couldn’t help but look at Dorian like that when he walked by. The corresponding question just had Bull shake his head before speaking. “You don’t know how close you just came to death, Vent. I’d be counting my blessings right about now if I were you. I’ve _never_ seen anyone grab hold of that Qunari’s horn and live to tell about it.”

Krem nodded in agreement, even _he_ had witnessed it. Cassandra had just strolled up, her sparring partner looking rather winded. “Who grabbed Talan’s horn?” She questioned with a paled face. She knew, first hand, how… touchy… he could be.

Dorian blinked at the information and then, oh great, here we go, sewing circle time. He was poised to say _no one_. But Krem answered instead. “The Vent.”

Cassandra looked at him sharply and then up and down. “But he still lives?”

Bull barked out a laugh and nodded. “I know right, that’s what I was sayin’!”

Dorian scoffed at them as they all stared at him, even the great hairy lummox that Cassandra had been sparring with. “Well, I didn’t actually grab it, more like… church-grabbed it.” He winked at Cassandra who gave him a disgusted snort.

Cassandra did snort at him and then roll her eyes. “Even still. He must like you if you are still breathing.”

Bull shook his head at him. “Or he didn’t think you were worth his time.”

Dorian rolled his eyes at them and waved them off as he just walked away. The Bull, however… glanced back to the Smithy where he saw Talan beating the crap out of some metal. There could be only a few reasons Talan hadn’t lashed out at him… either he felt like he owed the Vent for what happened in the future… _or_ … he actually liked him. Either way.. Bull didn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're starting to see a little bit of the Bull here and how he's taking an interest in Talan (not like that). And touching on what starts to happen to people whenever they go through something insane together. Not to mention the whole... just... these two! My precious Talan, trying so hard to be... not himself. Now, fair warning... I've written Dorian a bit more toned down than he is, sort of. I mean... I imagine this is how he is *in private*. When there isn't anyone else looking, no one else listening. He's still quippy but not as much as canon, and... he gets... worse as the story goes on so just fair warning... it's just how it wrote out.


	9. Lock out the world, Shut the insanity in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why couldn't people just accept things and leave it at that? Talan knew the moment he saw the pompous Tevinter that the two of them would do well to stay the hell away from each other. But of course he never listened, not even to himself. But he had no idea how... bad his madness had actually gotten where Dorian was concerned. Because right now was the perfect time for any of this, right? Leave it to his jacked up head to start all this crap now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've got some slow type burning going on and whatnot. Fair warning.

Dorian woke the next morning to find a full set of armor _in_ his cabin, set on the desk. A delicate staff leaning against the chair. He blinked at them at first… wondering how they had even gotten there without him knowing? He picked up the thick jacket of a top and saw the delicate pattern… Tevinter snakes coiled around the shoulders and he frowned slightly. Such… care and consideration… the metal was thin but damned if it didn’t vibrate with magical energy. He felt… weird when he suited up. Knowing that Talan’s hands had crafted each piece specifically for him… it was as if he wanted him kept safe. He scoffed at himself and pushed those thoughts from his mind as best as he could when he plucked the staff. He was shocked at how light it was for how tall… the sphere at the top was… beautiful. The male had talent in the forge, that was unmistakable. He shook his head and left his cabin swiftly, aiming for the Smithy. He was intent on thanking the male, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus was ungrateful. Most of Haven was already up and about but when he got to there, the forge was cold and there was no sight of the Qunari. The lummox was there though, sitting outside the attached cabin… which was apparently his.

Blackwall was sipping on some coffee when he saw the Tevinter, sporting his new duds. No doubt wanting to thank their Harold, he should know, he did the same when he had been given his. He spoke up over the rim of his mug. “He’s in the cabin outside the camp.”

Dorian’s head snapped to the side, pinning the man with the beard with a raised brow. “Ah, so… the Herald doesn’t like to rest with his followers then?”

Blackwall just shook his head at the prissy man. He didn’t have the tolerance for the hoity toity attitude this early in the morning so he just grumbled something into his mug as he took another sip and made it apparent that he was done with the conversation, after all… Talan _had_ kept him up all night making all that fancy gear.

Dorian rolled his eyes, knowing well that with this lot he’d be doing that quite often, and walked off. He passed by the empty training yard and the tents, where soldiers were still rolling out of bed, groaning, grumbling, and some glaring at the dreaded Tevinter _bastard_ who was invading their territory, as far as they were concerned. He followed the path, grateful beyond measure for the heavier boots… in fact, he didn’t feel the chill at all except for on his face and the tips of his fingers, which were left bare for dexterity, no doubt. He spotted the cabin in the distance and though it took some time, he welcomed the quiet walk. The south could be quiet beautiful in its own right… but he still missed home fiercely. He approached the door and knocked swiftly, rapping his knuckles on the worn wood thrice in swift succession. He expected the door to open just as quickly and when it didn’t he felt… awkward. So.. he knocked again, a bit louder this time, feeling the sting.

Talan heard the first knock, it pulled him from his slumber. He grumbled into the pillow, having been face down, as per the usual. He growled at the second but dutifully palmed the mattress and hoisted himself up and rolled off the bed. His leathers barely laced and hanging loose on his hips revealing the dark hair that trailed from his belly button downwards, the rest left to bare. His braids loose from their tie splayed down his back and some had worked their way alongside his temple to frame his face, he didn’t care, he was still exhausted. He’d been up nearly all night, having only found his bed a few hours ago. His bare feet carried him over the numerous furs he’d laid over the stone floor to combat the chill to the door. The fire still smoldering in the hearth kept the small cabin plenty warm enough though no other light was lit, that coupled with the boarded windows kept it nice and dark, if not eerie. He mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of light but still, he squinted against it when he opened the door. “What?”

Dorian was taken aback by his just-out-of-bed appearance, though it wasn’t too different than his waking one. His hair was loose and it gave him a… somehow, softer look. The tie on his leathers likewise had Dorian looking down to his own feet. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Talan was surprised to find the Tevinter there… but his fog was still lifting. “You did.” He mumbled, stepping back and holding the door, an obvious invitation. He didn’t want to let any more chill in since he had full intention of going back to bed once this conversation was done. He was already confused where Dorian was concerned… for starters, the man wasn’t a Magister but he was from Minrathous, he knew that much. He knew then, that he had slaves. That too wasn’t lost on him. As such… by all rights, Talan should feel that familiar rage within yet… he didn’t. _Great… it’s official. You’ve finally lost it._

Dorian nodded in agreement and thought about simply excusing himself and leaving but… the invitation was given and he took it, against all better judgment. He stepped in and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the near darkness. The cabin was… warm but mostly bare other than the bed in the corner, much larger than others, obviously. The table in the opposing corner was littered with… all manner of things really. But other than that… there was little to be seen. Dorian glanced behind him when he heard the door’s bolt arm slide shut, and the chill was already being forced out by the low burning fire.

Talan’s discomfort grew as he shut the door, locking out the world and shutting in the insanity as far as he was concerned. He folded his arms over his chest, feeling.. uncharacteristically exposed. “You.. wanted something?” He prompted, wanting to get this man out of here as quickly as possible. The way the firelight danced on his face was… too alluring.

Dorian nearly jumped for the baritone voice that pulled him from his own thoughts. “Yes. I…” He set his staff to the side, letting it rest against the wall as he ran his hands down the front of his new armor. “I wanted to thank you. This… it’s magnificent.” He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over the male… the rise and fall of his chest as he stood there so still, too still… as if he was willing himself to do so. What _was_ it about him? Was it.. morbid curiosity? To desire what one couldn’t or shouldn’t have? Was it.. simple longing? Or gratitude? Or a desire to just be close with someone when the world was going mad? Or was it the novelty of what he was? Dorian couldn’t place the reasoning. But he knew that his desire was pricked and he knew that it must have shown in the way he was looking at the male for how he seemed to take in a sharp breath.

Talan didn’t have a clue why he was so attracted to this man. Sure, he’d found other males attractive before… but this one? It had to have something to do with the world effectively trying to end all around them. Everything and seemingly everyone going crazy out there. Everything he’d been through thus far… that damned tear in the sky, the mark on his hand… the constant conflict and uncertainty. All of it. But he’d negated himself to isolation. Since the incident at the forge he had told himself that simply staying away from Dorian would be the best idea… yet here he was. Like a foolish boy. Locking himself in with this Tevinter. He nodded slightly with the man’s words though they sounded like they were so far away for his own heartbeat pounded in his ears. For some, very odd, reason… knowing that he was wearing armor that _he_ made… did something strange to him. As if… in some weird way… his hands were now all over this man’s body. He parted his lips for the rush of breath that came out of him, grateful it was silent but when he looked at Dorian’s eyes… the desire he saw there had him take in that sharp breath. _Oh… shit… bad… bad idea._ “I.. wanted.. you.. to be safe.” Queue the dumbass bumbling nonsense words.

Dorian felt the look in Talan’s eyes like a bolt of lightning. He ran his hands down his hips roughly, attempting to dry them, which was wholly ineffective since his palms were covered with wrappings. The tension around them seemed to sizzle the very air. The words that he mumbled shouldn’t have broken through to him, but they did. Surely he didn’t really… care… about his well-being. At least, not exclusively. Not any more than he did his other companions. He licked his lips subconsciously, watching as Talan took a ragged breath, his eyes following the movement.

Talan felt his control inching towards the edge… damned if he didn’t take a step towards the man, his feet moving seemingly on their own, his arms unfolding slowly as his shoulders rolled with the step. He was being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, equally as likely to be consumed. He told himself that he was aiming for the door… to let the man out, to tell him he should go.

Dorian took a step back for each one Talan took forward, feeling himself being dwarfed too easily. Soon, his back pressed against the door… he gave his own ragged breath, it rattled in his chest as his heart did the same. He craned his neck to hold that gaze… but he felt no fear. He wanted, damn did he want. “I… wanted to thank you…” He murmured, apparently he had his own bumbling words to give.

Talan had backed him against the door… well, he succeeded in reaching the door. He was struggling within… the need to touch him was rapidly outpacing the kneejerk reaction to contact. He reached slowly… his hands finding Dorian’s… his fingers barely brushing the man’s. The electric pulse he felt from the touch was nearly enough to have him sway beneath it. He knew his eyes flashed vibrantly, his want more than evident as the muscles in his jaw trembled. “You already said that.”

Dorian felt himself nearly caged… and the masculinity of the Qunari before him, damned if it didn’t work for him. He’d never.. been this aroused before. His want was spearing him and the tentative touch was… agonizing. But that one touch, that slight brush… seemed to drive Talan on. That power… Dorian flexed his hands and laced his fingers with his firmly, pulling at him just so, watching as the male indeed swayed towards him. “So I did…” His voice had gone husky… this prolonged moment… he felt the tremor go down his spine with the anticipation and the unknown.

Talan felt the hold and feared the familiar disgust. It was there… in the background.. but he ignored it. Grateful that he was able to, knowing well his desire was the reason. That pull nearly had him stumble the rest of the way towards him. But the husky tone, the desire in the man’s voice had him bow his head and shake it just a bit. “You… should go.” He pulled loose one of his hands and slid the bolt on the door open, the metal slicing through the silence.

Dorian swallowed roughly and nodded. “I should.” He had to agree, he _should._ But he still held fast to the other hand… he found he didn’t want to release it. Not yet. He still couldn’t quite figure it out… but the draw he felt was.. unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It had to be novelty of it all, the forbidden nature of this beast before him. But the hand he held was far too gentle to be believed.

Talan’s features were… conflicted. Desire snapped in his gaze but trepidation blended in, there on the edges… was that fear? It was. It suddenly didn’t matter that this man was from Tevinter, it was far more simpler yet far more complex than that. He stepped back, taking a breath with the action, releasing the one he didn’t know he had been holding. The tension easing just a bit. “ _Panahedan,_ Dorian.” He slid his other hand from the man’s grasp, feeling the emptiness immediately and feeling no need at all to wipe his skin clean from the touch, another oddity all together.

Dorian was… dismissed. He may not understand the word but the way it was said and the context in which it was used was clear enough. He’d always found _Qunlat_ to be such an abrasive language, but in Talan’s soft tenor, it was almost… genteel. He softened his features to the male, almost instinctively, as if to say that he held no ill will. For some reason… the look on Talan’s face, the near sorrow over having to part tugged at him. Though why it did… he still didn’t know. He nodded, plucked his staff from its lean and gave him a small sort of smile. “You should get more rest, Herald. I’ll ensure you are not disturbed again.” He gave a firm nod and let himself out, pulling the door shut behind him and hearing the bolt slide slowly he took a steadying breath, for once… welcoming the cold air. Damned if that wasn’t one of the most… intensely desirable situations he’d ever been in. Note to self; no more alone time with the Herald. If nothing more than an attempt to thank the man could send him into a world of wanting to feel all of him against his body, then perhaps they just shouldn’t be alone together. Dorian went for a long… long… walk, but not before letting the Commander know that their Herald was in need of rest and that he shouldn’t be disturbed for at least most of the day. He noticed the Commander was quieter, more solemn than he had been the evening before… he agreed just as quietly but… he wore new bracers.

Talan took a raged breath as he slid the bolt closed, settling his trembling hands against the door, letting his head fall. _What… the hell… had that been?!_ He chastised himself as he growled, shaking his head and shoving away from the wooden slab, storming to his bed and crawling back in, yeah… like he’d be able to just, go back to sleep now! Score one for restraint, he’d sent the man away. Like he’d had any other choice. Talan pulled the blankets roughly up over himself, rolling onto his side… brooding. His brow held low as he crossed his arms over his chest. Oh yeah, total comfort. His groin ached, his body apparently intent on punishing him. He finally fell back asleep… though it took some time… his dreams were wrought with desire demons drawn to him like moths to a flame. A _saarebas_ with demons plaguing him… was a very dangerous thing.

  
[Quiet](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Quiet-695392521) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Applicable Translations for this Chapter:  
> Panahedan: "Goodbye." Literally, "take refuge in safety." (Dragon Age Wikia page on Qunlat)
> 
> *  
> So yeah, my big dumb precious Talan is all bumbling nerves. And Dorian isn't much better though I know he'd probably be all suave and much more debonair than I can write him, again, it's just how it wrote out. I have this thing in my head that a lot of what we see of Dorian is just for show, that beneath it all, he's just as clueless as the rest of them. ;)


	10. And I Lost Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a shit storm somewhere behind them. Talan would rather his stay there... of course, we don't always get what we want, especially Talan. But that's just the way it is for him, he's learned to deal with it. Dealing with the Bull *and* that? Not exactly his idea of a fun night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Abuse & Sexual Abuse Insinuations. Slavery.
> 
> So, we're getting a little into Talan's backstory here. Just a glimpse, but we're starting to understand a little more about what's going on with him (at least the Bull is starting to). Also starting to see their unique relationship unfolding even more.
> 
> NOTE: UPDATE 3/5/2017 : I know that it's been awhile since I've updated this and for that I do apologize. The next chapter needs some major editing and work still and I really am working on it. <3

The Bull was aiming for the cabin set apart from the camp as the sun was heading down… for his own reasons, he’d taken a liking to the so-called Harold. He was a young _Vashoth_ , being a good fifteen years his junior, easily- though he couldn’t be certain, it wasn’t like the _Qun_ celebrated birthdays exactly. Still, a _saarebas_ , and a mystery if any of them were going to be honest, though Redcliffe had given him some incite, he wanted to know more. Even Leliana hadn’t been able to gather much information on him… it seemed as though he simply appeared, fully formed at about age nineteen, about eight years ago. That’s when ol’ Iron Ass picked him up, and if that merc captain was to be believed… he simply found him on the side of the road. Which may or may not be true. And good luck getting anything out of Talan about his time before being a merc. He _was_ planning to wake the young male to make sure he remembered to eat something today before they headed out on the night-op he had mentioned the other day when he heard the panicked yell and wood splintering, he immediately broke into a dead run and nearly ran into the barred door. He pounded on it with a closed fist. “Boss?!” He was answered with another yell and more furniture breaking. “Boss!” He threw his shoulder into the door, the bolt giving way as he spilled into the cabin, shielding his eye from the stray magic that was flying around. “Boss?!” Suddenly, Bull couldn’t hear his own voice, as if the sound had been sucked right out of his own throat. He stumbled as he slid on pieces of wood… what was left of some kind of furniture. He heard Talan scream again, but it sounded as though it was so far away, the dying scream of a demon echoing all around. “Boss!” He nearly slid when he rounded the wall and saw him… he was down on his knees, nothing but leathers on as he was trying to crawl back up onto the bed, but damn… his back was sliced all to hell and back. “What the hell?!” Bull stepped over to him and took hold of his arm only to have Talan cry out and shy away, taking a ragged breath and falling back to the floor, bracing his weight on his hands as he tried to breath. Bull held his hands out away from him… _dammit!_ He’d nearly forgotten. “What the hell happened, Boss?”

Talan had come awake in a fury, fighting and screaming, the desire demon he had been fighting off in the fade was no match, it had been almost fun for how much he enjoyed toying with it. But then… well… then despair showed up. And the shit hit the proverbial fan. One minute he was lounging on a chaise with a desire demon draped across his lap and the next he was strung up by his wrists, his horns bound with a handle between them, held fast as the barbed whip was snapped across his back. He awoke too quickly, and pulled despair with him… the fight on this side had been quick but no less taxing. His back was a mess… raw and bleeding, his skull aching from the tension that had been upon his horns… and his mind still skipping around as if he couldn’t get a full grasp on consciousness. Then he heard someone calling out… _Boss?_ The Bull was there… he was trying to get to his feet when he felt the Qunari’s innocent hold on his arm but damned if it didn’t feel like a thousand bolts of lightning drive into his bones and course through him as his stomach lurched and his skin felt like it tried to peel off his bones all on its own, the cry was forced out of him from the touch and he tried weakly to evade it. He coughed deeply and immediately regretted it as it felt as though his back was trying to tear open anew though he knew it wasn’t. He felt his muscles tremble as he reached for the foot-board, taking hold and hoisting himself up with a grimace, climbing to his feet, he felt his head spin a bit and his vision dimmed. He must have swayed for he caught movement out the corner of his eye by way of a hand coming towards him, he shied from it, his chin going low as he bared his naturally pointed canines with a sharp growl. He braced a hand against the wall as he tried to just breath…

Bull watched as he got to his feet, he saw how his muscles shook… the sweat that covered him from the obvious pain… he also saw him sway and he couldn’t stop the instinct to reach, only to steady him but the very clear warning he got in return had him jerk his hand back. “Easy boss…” He frowned as he watched the male stand there and… well, quiver, if he were to be honest. He gestured to the bed. “Lay down before you fall down.” He managed to not make it sound like an order but it still came out authoritative, he stepped back to give Talan more than enough room to navigate around the bed, which he did.

Talan’s eyes were glazed over from the pain even though they held all the magic the pain had brought forth… he gave a subtle nod as he staggered around the foot-board and climbed onto the bed, settling down onto his stomach with a hiss, his muscles trembling as he lowered himself onto the mattress, his arms folding beneath the pillow as he buried his face into it, grateful to be able to hide his features. He heard the door open and breathed a sigh of relief… for a moment thinking that Bull had left him. Then, he heard the male return, his heavy steps moving around the cabin and then wood being shifted, he heard a chair sliding around… he turned so he could look to the side, his cheek sinking into the down. He watched as Bull sat beside the bed, a few almost-clean towels draped over his knee and a bucket full of snow by his feet, and a freshly uprooted elf-root plant on the floor beside it. He frowned slightly at the obvious intention. “Bad idea, Bull.” His deep tenor came out raw and low.

Bull shifted his weight and shook his head. “I know you don’t like to be touched, Boss… but you’re going to have to deal with it… have to do something about these.” He gestured to Talan’s back as he reached for the man’s braids, ignoring the low growl that came at him. He lifted the dark cords and tossed them to the side, revealing the extent of the injuries, the light from the fire more than enough to highlight them. His features set, he reached down for the elf-root and began plucking leaves off and laying them over the wounds… he’d seen lashings before, but for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of, he was disturbed by them on Talan’s back… not to mention the scars the fresh wounds bisected. He kept flicking his eye back to Talan’s face and saw the far off look in the male’s eyes, as if he would do anything to be _anywhere_ else. He finally gave up ‘checking’ on him… he draped one of the towels over the leaves, noting that they were already nearly soaked with blood and bio-fluids. He slid the bucket between his feet and picked a handful of snow up and grimaced as he settled the first of many mounds of snow onto the towel, the male tensed violently and slammed his eyes closed, baring his teeth with a sharp hiss. Bull ignored him and continued… he was about half done when Talan’s deep tenor came from him… the male had long since silenced his protests.

Talan’s pain had ebbed and flowed, finally starting to numb… he knew that Bull wouldn’t ask, but craved an explanation… who wouldn’t? In his world, things were never given freely… trade was expected and for a _Ben-Hassrath_? Information was currency. So… he paid for the kindness Bull was showing him. “Tevinter slavers found me when I was five…” He spoke low… his words terrified of being spoken too loudly. “My parents had been killed by followers of the _Qun_ … so I was alone when they found me. I was sold in Minrathous… a novelty, or so I’m told.” He closed his eyes, his breaths having gone shallow some time ago, welcoming the numbing effect the snow was providing. “The man who bought me… _Ether_ …” He felt the disgust roll through him as bile rose in his throat… he couldn’t contain the sound of a wretch either… it took a moment before he could ease his hold on the edge of the mattress. “He kept me until I was eighteen.”

Bull had froze for a moment… but continued his task, slowing his movements as he listened. When Talan wretched, he flicked his eyes to his face, he could almost smell the bile… he didn’t stop what he was doing though. Once Talan stopped talking, he chanced a question, his tone came easy and gentle. “How did you get away?”

Talan gave a bit of a mouth-shrug. “He sent for a healer one day… he had… gone too far.” He swallowed down the threat of another wretch. “The healer that came was… a gentle soul. She told him that I needed to be taken to the infirmary. For whatever reason… he agreed. She took me outside the city that night… But he found us…” He sighed heavily, feeling as though he should turn his face back into the pillow. But he didn’t… he simply continued. “He strapped my horns and I was punished for trying to escape… she was charged with stealing… a week later, his heart gave out… and I ran. Tully found me a month or two after that…”

Bull was laying the other towel over the snow by the time Talan was done… shaking his head slowly at the male’s story. Not unheard of but still jarring. “How did his heart give out?” He hoped it was in a violent way…

Talan opened his eyes, the magic in his pupils having died out with the question, as it always did… he felt the ice settle in his veins and not from the snow on his back. “He tried again… and I lost control.”

Bull’s hand hovered over his back and looked down at his face… the expression he saw was so cold… and distant, he couldn’t help but sit back in his chair slowly and feel the chill roll over him. He sat there for… hell, he didn’t even know before he cleared his throat. “All set… Boss.”

Talan closed his eyes and took another shallow breath though he wanted a deep one, his lungs craved one. “Thank you, Bull… you can go.”

Bull got comfortable in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “If it’s all the same to you… I’m fine right here, Boss.”

Talan swallowed roughly and let out that ragged breath he had tried to take and just laid there… feeling the snow slowly melt into the wounds on his back, just listening to the world around him while the mattress soaked up the thaw. For an hour he laid there before he felt the towels shift, he must have drifted off because he felt fresh snow being laid on his back, and he hadn’t even heard the door open. His brows lifted as he tried to open his eyes… but sleep pulled at him again, even as his shoulder muscles twitched on their own from the brush of fingers he felt.

Bull couldn’t help but relate the male before him to a wounded animal… not unlike a horse that had been beat in the past… the muscle that twitched all on its own beneath the slightest touch when he was barely awake was enough to show that. He finished putting on another snow blanket when he heard the soft snoring again, softening his expression to himself knowing that Talan had fallen back asleep… he decided to test his theory once again… he barely grazed his index finger over a single ridge of the male’s horn and watched a trail of tremors go down his neck and shake the packed snow, knowing it went down his spine, watching how his brows went low even in his slumber. He shook his head as he settled back into his chair… he stayed there for another two hours until Talan woke up and insisted that he was fine. There was no sight of the vulnerable male he had seen earlier.

  
[Don't Touch Me](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Don-t-Touch-Me-Revisited-656633982) by   
[Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on   
[DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tucks Talan away* my precious baby. Getting an idea here of what Talan is really worried about or rather, what actually bothers him. And some of the shit he has to deal with. (Demons)
> 
> The art is of Talan back when he was still owned.


	11. Onward to... the Undercroft?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The breach... the dragon... Corypheus... the song... the long march... the place that holds up the sky. Talan and the Inquisition has already been through a hell of a lot... but inside Talan's own personal world? It's only getting more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am *so* sorry that it has taken me so long... I'm working on editing the other chapters after this.)

Sealing the breach had been easier than any of them had thought. Talan stared untrustingly up into the scarred sky… only half listening to Cassandra when he heard the warning bells sound. _Knew it was too freaking easy._ Later, that night saw him stalking towards a blighted Magister with not but a hand raising by his hip, magic dancing in his eyes and swirling around his palm defiantly, his lip curled in a sneer that rivaled even the most detested of looks. Nearly all of his companions saw him face down the Magister before their view was obstructed by dragon fire and the damn thing itself. Bull’s cry for _Boss_ weren’t lost on any of them… Dorian’s fear over their Harold was however, hidden in his eyes. The mountain came tumbling down… Cullen watching in the distance as he sent up a prayer. _Perhaps you’ll find a way…_ he’d told the Qunari… and he’d meant it.

Talan dug himself out from under snow and rubble alike before finding a way to the camp in the mountains… his coat torn and his shoulder dislocated, his arm cradled to him uselessly. He struggled in the deep snow, his body trembling from the chill. By the time he crested the hill and saw the lighted tents below, his knees gave out and it was lights out for him. Cullen, Cassandra, Bull, and Dorian (much to their surprise) managed to carry the unconscious Talan into the healer’s tent. Solas, along with a few others immediately went to work only to find their efforts futile. The _saarebas_ ’ magic coupled with the mark both punished and hindered the healers’ attempts. They were forced to rely on potions, poultices, and tinctures along with brute strength to get his arm to set. Talan barely fit upon the cot they had laid him on, his feet hanging off the end as Bull covered him with a fur, setting a protective hand on his shoulder before sitting back on the squat stool and casting a concerned look to the Vent that sat on the other side. Dorian’s station was another stool, no bigger than the one the Bull sat upon but he made it look so.

Dorian looked over Talan’s misleadingly peaceful features, the cut over his brow stitched up… the so thin it was almost a second skin leather strap wrapped around a spot on one of his horns, Bull had reassured Dorian that it was just a crack, it would heal in time… if they had something or other… Dorian hadn’t truly been listening… Bull had said he could seal it. But they didn’t have whatever it was that Bull needed… thus they were simply trying to keep dirt out of it. His shoulder and arm wrapped with bandages to keep it immobile. Dorian let out a rough breath as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands before him, settling his brow upon his knuckles while still focusing on Talan… simply watching him breath brought him comfort. For hours, Talan didn’t move. Not even the slightest movement beneath his eyelids… he wasn’t even dreaming. It was nearly dawn before the Qunari opened his eyes, his magic barely leashed in his pupils when he did. He sat up too fast and immediately fell back down with a groan, rolling onto his side much to the protests of those around him. Bull grabbed his uninjured shoulder while Talan rolled onto his injured one, both actions causing the Qunari to hiss in warning and pain. Dorian reached and settled a hand on his chest, trying to push him back the way he had been laying. “Easy, Talan… you’re safe.” He whispered low, trying to catch his eye… it was pointless for he was unconscious a moment later, on his injured side… gripping the edge of the cot as if it were all that was keeping him in this world. Dorian exchanged even more worried looks with the Bull… worried and tired, both of them were. Dorian must have fallen asleep because when he jerked awake, he was alone in the tent. He immediately looked to the cot and found it empty… he leapt up and trotted outside to see Talan leaning over a table with the Commander, Spymaster, and Ambassador… the Bull was over with his Chargers, and Cassandra was nearby. _Thank the Maker…_ He also noted that Talan’s previously bandaged arm was now free, an almost too small coat pulled on over his bare… was that… Dorian couldn’t help but smirk. Talan had a mage’s robe pulled on and was wearing it as nothing more than an overcoat.

Mother Gezelle’s words didn’t fall on deaf ears when it came to Talan… and he’d shocked her when he’d mumbled that he _did_ believe… in the Maker … but not in himself… and not that he was chosen. Even still… it hadn’t been enough. The true shock came shortly after… when the song was sung… when the people took to their knees… a fissure went through the crowd and, Talan had unintentionally cemented himself into their hearts. Talan had _no idea_ that they were kneeling before _him_ … he’d knelt right along with them, his knees hit the snow, his head bowed… hands folded before him… and his tenor joined the rest of them. Dorian looked on… his lips parting as the shock went through him as well… but he didn’t see _the famed Harold kneeling so humbly_ … he saw a male who’d somehow cheated death… praying for a miracle, lifting his voice upon high the likes of which Dorian had never heard. The deep tenor seeming to vibrate in his very bones… Dorian could hardly believe his ears.

Talan didn’t trust Solas’ guidance… but he was left with little choice but to follow it. The entire Inquisition was desperate… lost, freezing… they’d start to starve soon. Thus, Skyhold was found. Talan stood in his quarters, looking around the massive room and feeling completely… and totally… out of place. His eyes cast around… and then settled upon the carpet. The plush fibers unmistakable… he curled his lip and felt as though he were walking upon pit-vipers… he’d seen this carpet before… the kind… distinctively Tevinter… and well renowned in Minrathous. He managed to stay there just long enough to change into a new coat that Josephine had procured for him before he stripped the bed of the furs they’d placed upon it… and drug them all down to the Undercroft… the blacksmith bitching as he kicked him out. Talan set a cot to the far wall instead, the furs were all dumped upon it unceremoniously… he was just shaking one out when he heard the door creak open again. His growl came out none too friendly. “I _told you_ that I would make sure they reassigned you somewhere else.”

Dorian’s brow perked upwards… he’d checked _the Inquisitor’s_ quarters… (and remembered well how Talan had visibly cringed, barely accepted the title, raised the sword in a bit of a salute and then quickly vacated the area)… only to find it empty. He then immediately asked where the forge was… and low and behold, there was the disagreeable Qunari. He smirked at the male, him and his damn coat. “I rather like my current assignment, actually.” He let the words roll off of him much as he always did, leaning on the stone railing, looking over at him… the forge down the stairs and below them.

Talan’s spine straightened as he whipped around, dropping the furs and nearly falling onto the cot as he tried to back up, the wood slat hitting the back of his knees for how tall the cot was. “….” He swallowed roughly, as if he couldn’t speak right away. His eyes flicked to the door… and back to Dorian, feeling his insides heat up. “Sorry about that… I thought you were the blacksmith.” He was surprised he didn’t freaking stutter as he mumbled the words… ever since he woke up… he… well, he remembered Dorian being there while he was wounded. His whole trek out from Haven… as much as he shouldn’t have… it was the face he was looking at right now that had made him push a little harder to make sure he made it.

Dorian watched him carefully… just as he had been ever since he’d woken up in the mountains. He looked… flustered. He’d never seen him so much as take a misstep, let alone nearly fall. He pushed off and took a few slow steps closer, strolling as if it were nothing… when in reality… he’d been waiting to get him alone. To set his hand to his shoulder or arm, to reassure himself that he was in fact, still there. Still living. He watched as Talan tracked his movements… his entire stance going rigid. There it was again, that same feeling from before. The intensity that was… dangerous. Dorian felt it go through him as sure as the cold wind that whipped through the undercroft from the mountains… the braziers seemingly doing nothing to combat it. His boots didn’t still until he was but inches from him… again. Though there was plenty of room to flee this time… and he wasn’t the one being backed against a wall…

Talan swallowed roughly as Dorian approached. _You’re going to have to learn to deal with him…_ he tried to tell himself. But his inner rebuttal was quick to point out that his dealings with the Tevinter for the Inquisition weren’t typically going to be done in private… away from all others. The undercroft _was_ plenty big… but damned if all that space counted for not when Dorian drew near, it felt as though all the air was sucked out of the room, his eyes locked onto his. They were the color of the sea before a storm… churning between blue and green… subtle but… soothing, and right now they held way more interest than they should have. He let in a whole lot of air, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t taken a breath in while, his lungs biting at him, demanding oxygen. “You… needed something?” He prompted, rubbing his fingers over the pad of his thumbs in order from pinky to index down by his sides as he felt his power flare in his pupils… pupils that were rapidly dilating for how near the man had gotten to him.

Dorian watched the power play in the male’s eyes… the subtle ways he was trying to still himself, to _not_ notice. Just as Dorian was… in an attempt to do just that, he glanced behind Talan, his dark brows lowering in confusion. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be staying down here?”

Talan closed his eyes with a relieved breath at the lifeline, he ran his tongue along his molars and sucked on one as he looked down at the cot, giving a bit of a shrug. “Seems as good of a place as any.”

Dorian looked back at him and blinked rapidly. “They _did_ give you quarters…”

Talan scoffed and turned back around, picking one of the furs back up… shaking it out much harder than he needed to, the leather snapping in the air with an audible _crack._ “They tried.”

Dorian folded his arms over his chest and perked his brows upwards. “Oh, now you’re just being difficult. So you’ll sleep down here and freeze as opposed to staying up on high in quarters fit for a king?” He was thoroughly confused… hell, the cabin Talan had in Haven was much better than this… what the hell was wrong with him?

Talan shook his head, the talismans that Sera had re-tied to his horns jingling with the action. “If you like it so much, take it… it’s yours.” He gestured absentmindedly over his shoulder, arranging the furs out on the cot in a final manner.

Dorian kicked his head back a bit at the tone… Talan was stressing his words, forcing his light hearted tone. Dorian was actually taking offense… he’d sent all the way to Minrathous for the massive carpets that spanned the entire floor of those quarters… a gift. “I’ll have you know, those quarters are lined with some of the finest carpets in all of Thedas. I had them commissioned just for you…” He led on gentler, hoping that… hell, he didn’t know. He couldn’t craft suits of armor or forge weaponry… luxuries, those were the things he could gift.

Talan visibly bristled… stilling his movements and glaring over his shoulder at the man. “You did that?” He tried to ease his tone… his temper flaring in his eyes. He knew that Dorian… couldn’t possibly know… couldn’t understand. “Then I insist…” He turned to face him, drawing his arms up to fold over his own chest in a defensive gesture. “Take the quarters. They are _all_ yours.”

Dorian looked at Talan with confusion. “I don’t… Talan, it was a gift…” He stressed, not understanding at all where this anger was coming from. “I meant no offense.” Perhaps the male was particular about who decorated his quarters?

Talan shook his head slowly, doing well to push away the sneer that wanted to come forth. He opened his mouth to speak further but closed it again and just… shook his head once more, making to step past Dorian and head out… he had nothing more to say, was best if he didn’t. This man was quickly becoming too much for him to handle. That singular reminder… that not only did Dorian come from Tevinter… his father was a Magister… he grew up in Minrathous… hell, for all _he_ knew… Dorian could have _known_ Ether… could have known Ether’s son. Could have a slave just like _him_ in his house… he felt ill all of a sudden, and when Dorian’s hand ensnared his elbow, he turned on him viciously. His teeth bared, eyes lit, his arm swinging out sharply, freeing himself from the hold, his other hand having snatched Dorian’s wrist and pulling it upwards as he towered over him in warning. “ _Pashaara!”_ (Enough!) That touch, being grabbed… it was too much, his mind… it had already gone down the rabbit hole… and being grabbed like that… in that moment, it was just… too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo Talan-itude.


	12. Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Him and the trinkets that Sera insists on tying to his horns because... she's Sera. So yep... saarebas... Inquisitor.

  
[Talan Adaar](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/A-Proper-Talan-625822785) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


  
[Talan Adaar](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Breathing-Deep-626145440) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  



	13. Talan's Character Turn-Around Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn-Around Sheets for Talan Adaar. Artwork that displays information... slight spoilers for the story (honestly, we all saw it coming though so it's not entirely spoiling the story).

  
[Talan Adaar](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Talan-Adaar-681870040) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


  
[Talan Adaar (Censored Nude)](http://tes331.deviantart.com/art/Talan-Adaar-Character-Sheet-Nude-Censored-681869373) by  [Tes331](http://tes331.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've a mind - the uncensored version is linked on the DA page.


End file.
